The Pack
by microgirl
Summary: Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole"...GSR
1. Chapter 1

_The Pack_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to CSI; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance._

_Author's Note: I was inspired to write this fic after watching many hours of __Animal Police_. I'm a sucker for animal rescue shows even if they make me cry. This is a multi-chapter story, but it is finished! I will be posting one chapter a day. This fic takes place in the spring of 2006. And if you have time, please leave a review as they always make me happy :)  


_Waffles and all thing pumkin flavored to EllipsesBandit, for she is truly a talented and wonderful beta._

_

* * *

Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole-Roger Caras_

* * *

_Home, sweet home_

Sara sighed contently as she closed the door behind her. Even though they had been living in the new house for three weeks, it was already home. Home. With packed bookcases, dirty clothes left on the bathroom floor, and an experiment or two in the refrigerator. Kicking off her shoes, she hung her jacket in the closest before proceeding downstairs to the kitchen.

They had decided to buy a new place together, and settled on a condo in neighborhood away from the Strip. The sterility of his place and the emptiness of her apartment had been replaced with the warmth of soft blue walls, plush and comfortable couches, and large windows that bathed everything in sunlight during the day.

Opening the refrigerator, Sara pulled out a bottle of water and sat at the breakfast bar. As she flipped through the day's mail, her cell phone rang. She frowned, for once hoping she wasn't about to be called in on her night off. But seeing the name on the caller ID had her smiling.

His light and soothing greeting of, "Hello, dear," never failed to make her heart rate speed up.

"Hello, Gilbert," she answered back, just as playful. "How'd the meetings go this afternoon?" Naturally the administration had chosen to schedule a series of meetings on one of their few, precious days off together, forcing Grissom to cut their afternoon short.

"Under Sheriff McKeen's fondness of the sound of his own voice has grown into what can only be described as a passionate love affair."

Chuckling, she said, "A long and boring afternoon, then?"

He grunted. "More like mind-numbing monotony. What are you up to?"

"Just opening mail; the new issue of _Baseball Digest_ came today." She hoped the mention of his favorite magazine would brighten his otherwise dreary day. "I was going to think about starting dinner soon. Italian or Mexican-what are you in the mood for?"

"Is Pino's still having their special on calzones?"

Grissom's cooking lessons had elevated Sara's skills from Cup-of-Noodles in the microwave to boiling her own noodles for spaghetti, but she still preferred her original culinary style.

"As a matter of fact they are." Her tone turned impish, "So if you're nice I'll order your disgusting, meaty calzone when you leave the lab and you'll have a nice, hot dinner ready when you get home."

There was a pause and she could picture him sitting at his desk, shaking his head slightly. "Actually that's what I'm calling about. Nick called in sick so I'm staying to cover his shift."

"And here I was going to tell you _Silverado_ was on tonight so we could watch it." She sighed heavily, "I just don't know what I'm going to do now."

"I know, honey, but try not to be too disappointed," he deadpanned.

After a few more minutes of conversation, they exchanged "be careful's," and "goodbye's." While she was in the mood for one of her many burrito indulgences from Roberto's, she dialed the number for Pino's and ordered in a small pineapple pizza, and the Meat Lover's calzone.

She settled under a soft blanket for the evening with her newest book, _The Lynne Truss Treasury_. Around eleven, she stretched her limbs and then proceeded to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Just as she returned to cozy confines of the sofa, the bushes in the backyard started to rustle.

At first she thought it was just a light breeze, but her pulse quickened at the sound of branches and twigs snapping and cracking. She turned her head to direction of the backdoor; even with the curtains drawn, she could still tell the motion lights hadn't been triggered. She remembered locking the doors and windows, but that knowledge still didn't ease her tension.

As the rustling continued, Sara swiftly went to the closet. _Fine time for me to leave my gun in my locker_, she mentally grumbled as she took the heaviest of Grissom's softball bats from the closest.

Slowly and quietly, Sara made her way back downstairs to the back door. When she heard a loud series of snaps and crunches, her hold on the bat went from white knuckle to death grip.

_Whatever gun-wielding maniac back there is going to be sorry_, she thought_, Not only do I know every police officer and CSI in Las Vegas, but I can a hit a 50 mile per hour baseball; that kind of swing will leave a mark._ She congratulated herself for a moment. _Oh yeah, no gun is a match for my Louisville Catalyst X-1 bat._

She flipped on the lights for the backyard patio before raising her weapon and carefully drawing the curtain back…

But she didn't see anything. Not even a shadow. Sara opened the curtains slightly more, and looked in the direction of the bush; the plant remained still and silent. She badly wanted to go outside and see look for evidence of shoeprints in the dirt, but she didn't want to take the chances of running into an intruder if they decided to stick around; it would have to wait until morning.

Double checking the locks, she closed the curtains and turned on a few more lights in the living room. She eventually settled in the recliner with her book, another softball bat by her side.

* * *

It was rare to have a slow night, as the apocalypse proved to happen on any day of the week, and the next shift was no exception. As soon as she clocked in, Sara was dispatched to a crime scene along with Greg, Nick, and Catherine. They were given an address located in a neighborhood near UNLV.

They pulled up to a small house, already surrounded with crime scene tape and police officers securing the area. Two fire trucks sat behind a police cruiser and the heavy smell of smoke and burned wood filled the air. The four found Brass waiting on the sidewalk.

"I hope everyone has brushed up on their chemistry," the captain said to the approaching group.

"Science experiment gone wrong?" Nick guessed.

"Something like that." Brass flipped through his notes. "The house belongs to Donna Jones, but she rented it out to two students, Mark Hollister and Kevin Moss. According to the neighbors, they're both grad students in the chemistry department." Brass glanced at the house. "I don't have to tell you what happened."

Catherine asked, "Who called it in?"

"One of the neighbors. According to them, everything was quiet until they heard screaming. They look outside, and see a human fireball running in the street. And the next moment, the house is up in flames. Paramedics IDed the vic as Mark. He was taken to Desert Palm."

Sara's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Any idea where the fire started?"

Blowing out a breath, Brass answered, "My guess would be the basement. It looked like he was doing some special cooking down there. Bunsen burner, car batteries, bottles of what looked like ammonia and lye…"

"Somehow I don't think meth production is an appropriate thesis topic," Catherine said. "Where's the other roommate?"

Shaking his head slightly, Brass closed his note pad. "Hasn't shown up yet, but he'll turn up soon. We've got our guys searching the area." He lifted the tape. "It's all yours."

The CSIs spent hours in the house, carefully and methodically working through the blackened debris of what was obviously a basement drug lab. After processing the basement, Sara, Greg, and Nick split up searching the rest of the house. Finding nothing of interest in the kitchen and living room, Sara was about to go help Nick with the upstairs rooms when she spotted a shed against the fence in the backyard.

A small, dilapidated tree stood pitifully in the middle the yard. Even with only her flashlight, she could see the yellowed, dead and dying grass among the patches of dirt. Sara noticed a pale green, rusty garden hose hanging on the side of the shed; the hose wasn't connected any water source.

Before she even wrapped her fingers around the door handle, she heard the sound a low whine. She stopped and moved closer to the door, listening for the sound. About a minute or so later, she heard another whine, but it didn't appear to be coming from inside the shed. Sweeping her flashlight to the side with hose revealed nothing, but thin weeds.

Turning to the right, Sara noticed the shed wasn't flush with the fence parallel to its side; there looked to be a three foot area between the shed and fence. She circled to the other side, and found the red-rimmed eyes of a dog crammed into the tiny space.

She immediately crouched down on her knees, tentatively lifting her hand out for the dog to sniff it, but the canine barely moved a muscle.

"Hey there, boy. What's going on? Are you okay?"

Running her flashlight over the dog, she cringed at seeing all of the ribs jutting out. Not only that, she noticed the outline of the bones of the back legs. There were several patches of bright pink, inflamed skin along the muzzle and stomach. With the dog having made no significant movement toward her, Sara carefully ran her fingers over the dirty brown fur. She wasn't completely familiar with breeds, but to her best guess the poor canine looked like a boxer.

"We're going to get you some help, okay? We'll get you some good food and water. How does that sound?" Her voice stayed low and calming.

She looked back to the house, just in time to see Brass open the back door. "Sara?" he called out.

"I'm by the shed," she answered.

The captain's shoes crunched against the gravel and rocks as he approached them. "I thought you were searching the kitchen and living room."

"I was, and then I found this guy here," her attention going back to the dog lying before her.

Brass held his flashlight above the pair. "I guess we can add animal cruelty to the charges against the chemistry geniuses."

"Looks like it," she sighed. "Does the humane society have people working nights? This dog needs to go to a hospital right now."

"I'm pretty sure they do. I'll give 'em a call right now."

While Brass spoke on the phone, Sara kept up a gentle stream of words to the dog. Seeing the outline of the frame was nothing compared to feeling the hard bones against the boxer's skin. She winced as her hand went over each and every bump of the vertebrae.

As they waited, Sara badly wanted to ask Brass to find some food and water in the house, but with little veterinary knowledge, she knew this dog would require intravenous care. And she didn't want to feed the canine something that might make him even sicker.

After what seemed like hours, Brass's cell phone rang. He answered it, and then informed Sara the representatives from the Las Vegas Valley Humane Society had arrived. Five minutes later, a police officer came through the back door, escorting two women. Sara rose to her feet to greet them. The heavy set blonde introduced herself as Elizabeth Kendrick. The twenty-ish short brunette with announced herself as Christy DeGucamo.

Sara quickly explained the situation while they jotted notes. They identified the dog as a male boxer, approximately one year old. Shining a light beam on the dog, Christy crouched down and a hand over the dog's body.

"He doesn't have an ounce of fat on him," the younger woman scowled. "There's barely any muscle."

The other human society officer looked up from her clipboard. "What do you want to scale him?"

"Whatever comes right after zero," Christy answered frankly.

Sara's forehead wrinkled. "Scale?"

"We rank animals' body mass from one to ten," Christy explained. "Ten being morbidly obese and one being morbidly emaciated." She lingered over the patches of missing fur. "He's also got a pretty bad case of mange. It looks like he's had it for a long time."

Blowing out a long breath, Sara worried her bottom lip in her teeth. The words said aloud seemed to compound the seriousness of the situation.

Elizabeth pursed her lips in thought. "And the whereabouts of the tenants?"

"One turned himself into a human roasted marshmallow, and we're still trying to track down the other one," Brass replied.

Nodding, the older woman tucked the clipboard under her arm. "Okay. Because of the severity of this dog's condition we're going to seize him without a warrant." She looked to Brass and Sara. "Can one of you guys help load him? I need to take pictures of the yard so we can document the dog's poor living conditions."

Sara immediately volunteered and waited as Christy retrieved a pet carrier. The criminalist ever so gently rubbed the dog's neck while murmuring words of comfort. When she looked into the canine's brown eyes, she noticed a trail of wetness going his snout, and it was all she could do not to cry herself.

With the pet carrier lined with a blanket, Sara slowly and carefully help load the boxer inside. Just before the metal door closed, the dog made its first significant movement as he ever so lightly pressed his nose into Sara's palm.

She watched as the carrier was loaded into the humane society marked Tahoe. When the trunk door slammed shut, she asked the question that had been burning in her mind since the pair of women made their initial assessment. "What do you think his chances are of surviving?"

With serious eyes, Elizabeth considered the question for a longer moment, making the pit in Sara's stomach a little deeper. Then she said, "I've been doing this job for seventeen years, and he's in one of the worst conditions I've seen. We're going to do everything we can for him, but…" She stopped. "He'll be lucky if he makes it through the next few days."

Nodding slowly, Sara stepped away from the SUV. She watched it speed away from the house, until the red tail lights faded away.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_The Pack-Chapter 2_

_Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for their kind response for chapter 1! I'm so happy y'all liked it. As promised here is Chapter 2. Please enjoy_

_Thank you to EllipsesBandit, who rocks harder than granite_

* * *

The criminalists finished collecting evidence from the burned house, and headed back to the lab. As she sat in the back seat, Sara's thoughts kept drifting back to the dog, making her wonder if he would survive. When the four returned, she decided she needed a distraction, and she offered to help prepare the liquid samples they collected for analysis on the gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer. While the task required most of her concentration in filling the microcentifuge tubes with solvent, the images of the starved boxer still crept into her mind.

Ever since she was a child, Sara had been an animal lover. Growing up at her parents' bed and breakfast, she'd secretly cared for the stray dogs in the neighborhood. Her violent father never discovered her sneaking scraps food to put under the wooden porch. During her freshmen year of college, her roommate found a pair of abandoned kittens behind the dumpster of their dorm building. They decided to keep the cats "until someone called about the ad they placed in the newspaper" which turned out to be for the four years of school. Graduate school and becoming a criminalist unfortunately didn't lend itself the time to take care of a pet, but she still donated money to the local animal shelters.

It was always tragedy to bear witness to the aftermath of adults abusing and murdering other adults, but there was a different level of pain in viewing the cruelty and neglect of a pet. In all of her experiences with animals, they had been nothing but kind and loyal companions. At a very basic level, animals required food, water, and adequate shelter. It was unfathomable to Sara why people would knowingly refuse to provide even the simplest of needs to a pet they owned.

It wasn't until she heard a voice say, "You know, there are only so many ways you can redecorate a locker," that pulled finally pulled her from her thoughts. She realized she'd been sitting on the bench in front of her open locker, getting ready to leave as shift had ended.

She looked up to see Grissom leaning against the wall with his brief case in hand.

One side of her mouth lifted in a half smile to his comment. "No redecorating plans. I was just thinking…about tonight's case."

"Brass told me you found a starved dog at the house with the probable meth lab."

"Yeah," she nodded absently. "And he had a severe skin infection. He was…he was in pretty bad shape."

"But at least you found him. And now he can treated at the humane society," he said, in a soothing tone.

_If the poor guy isn't already dead_, she thought, before nodding absently.

Even though they were the only two in the locker room, Grissom still kept his voice quiet, "Are you ready to go home?"

"Actually…I have an errand I need to do." She stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "It won't take me long."

Nodding, Grissom headed to the door. Sara waited a few moments before going back to her desk. She flipped through the file from the night's case until she found the page from the human society indicating the seizure of the dog. She jotted down the address and phone number from the upper left hand corner of the paper, and then went out to her car.

Fifteen minutes later, Sara found her self parked in front of the Las Vegas Valley Humane Society. The single level, sand-colored building spanned a large area with what appeared to be a sizeable gated grassy area behind it. Inside the main entrance, Sara introduced herself, with credentials, to the receptionist. She explained she was at the crime scene where the boxer was found and asked if she could find out the dog's progress. The receptionist made a quick phone call, and then informed Sara the veterinary doctor would be out to speak with her.

About ten minutes later, an older man appeared in the lobby dressed in blue scrubs under a white lab coat. He wore small wire rimmed glasses, and had thinning brown hair.

Shaking Sara's hand, the vet introduced himself. "I'm Doctor Robert Orme. I heard you were the one who found the dog brought in last night."

"Yes," she nodded. "I wanted to see how he was doing."

The vet hesitated a moment, and her stomach dropped somewhere below her knees as she braced herself for the news of the canine's death. All the air left her lungs as the doctor told her, "The dog is still alive."

She gave a nervous laugh of joy. "Thank you. That's really good to hear." But her elation was short lived as she took in the serious expression on Dr. Orme's face.

He gestured to the set of doors behind the receptionist. "Why don't we go to my office, and I can fill you in further."

She followed him through the doors and down a narrow hallway until they turned right into a small office. Behind a medium-sized desk littered with papers and file folders was a bulletin board covered in pictures of dogs, cats, birds, and even a few lizards. Dr. Orme positioned a metal chair in front of the desk before taking a seat behind it.

"As I said before, the dog is alive, but in critical condition. If he hadn't been found, I don't think he would have survived much longer. Right now we have him on IV fluids.

"He also has a bad case of mange," the vet continued, referring to the dog's skin condition. "We've already started to treat him for that as well, but it will take a long time for it to clear up."

Clenching her hands in her lap, she sighed.

Dr. Orme leaned forward a bit in his chair. "Now he did test negative for heartworm which will not hinder his progress and his mage is very treatable. But his body mass is extremely low. There has been a very slight response to the fluids, but we will be watching him carefully over the next several days."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, but she still managed to nod politely. "Thank you. I just…wanted to know. I really appreciate your time."

"We appreciate you calling us," Dr. Orme warmly replied. "I know this a small consolation, especially in your line of work, but should anything happen to the dog, at least you prevented him from the indignity of rotting someone's back yard."

The corner of her lip quirked up. "It's more than I usually get."

"Did you have any other questions?"

She didn't even have to think; it had been one of things on her mind since she had gotten back to the lab. "Does he have a name?"

"Bruno. One of our techs named him after a classmate that had cancer and beat the odds."

Sara's mouth now lifted into a fuller grin. "I think that will be fitting for him."

As she got up, Dr. Orme handed her a business card. "We can't allow visitors right now, but you are more than welcome to call. I'll gladly to keep you updated. When he gets his strength back, we can let you see him."

"Thank you very much. And I will be taking you up on that offer." Sara left the office with the cloud of worry still hanging over her, but now she had a little more hope.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_The Pack-Chapter 3_

_Author's Note- I wanted to have this up earlier, but I was having one of those days where everything that can go wrong, will go wrong…all day long. But I definitely didn't forget about this. Thank you for each and every one of your wonderful reviews. You guys are awesome!_

_Pumpkin cheesecake and waffles to my grammar ninja beta, EllipsesBandit._

* * *

Sara hadn't meant for it to go this far. Really. It just…sort of happened.

During the seven days after she found the severely malnourished boxer, she had been given updates from the veterinary doctor treating the dog. The canine's prognosis had gone from bleak to encouraging as he had been responding to the treatments. Dr. Orme informed her Bruno had gained significant strength back and she could visit the dog if she wanted.

It was supposed to be a quick trip after work; a short visit to see for herself of Bruno's progress. But as soon as she came in sight of the dog, Bruno's tail started to thump heavily against the tiled floor. While the outline of his skeleton was still terribly apparent and he had areas of almost no fur from the mange, the dog seemed to be in good spirits. She'd crouched down in front of him, and he immediately pressed his nose against the gated door, licking her fingers. The vet allowed her inside the kennel, and she sat on the floor to comfortably pet the boxer. Still weak, Bruno lay beside her and put his head in her lap as she stroked his ears.

The next week, during Grissom's weekly administrative meeting, Sara decided to drop off some dog treats for Bruno. The dog probably never had Milkbones before, she reasoned. Another simple trip. But one of the vet technicians invited her to take Bruno in the outdoor gated area, and thus she spent a good hour with the boxer, sitting in the grass while he happily crunched on the treats.

By the fifth week, she developed a routine: every Wednesday morning she'd stop at the human society after work to spend time with Bruno. She'd take him for short walks around the complex as he gained his strength back following it up with a long belly scratching session. The dog never failed to greet her with a friendly bark and his tail hammering the ground which always made her smile.

She still couldn't believe his previous owners had mistreated such a sweet dog. Luckily, the humane society had tracked down registration paperwork that proved the graduate students owned the boxer. The D.A. had added maximum animal neglect charges, and was even petitioning the students spend the first month of their sentence living on bread and water.

The next Wednesday morning, as Sara pulled out her jacket she grinned at the bag hanging in her locker. She'd bought an assortment of colorful toys, including a braided rope, tennis balls, and some rubber bones. She couldn't wait to get to the human society and play with Bruno. Maybe she could teach him to play fetch. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she barely noticed Grissom entering the locker room and standing next to her.

"House of Waffles or Pancake Palace?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "Huh?"

"For breakfast. I thought we could go out to eat."

"That's nice, but don't you have your meeting this morning."

"It got cancelled. Conrad unfortunately contracted the flu." He shook his head solemnly, but his lips twitched with mirth. "Would you prefer waffles or pancakes?"

Sara bit her bottom lip. "Ummm…Actually…" She also didn't realize how attached she had become to spending time with Bruno until she found herself unable to make one of her visits. She'd found a simple joy and a delightful break from her job to be just be the person who was responsible for Bruno's tummy rubs.

There was also the fact Grissom didn't know how she had been spending her Wednesday mornings. It wasn't that she'd been lying to him; he never questioned her about where she was every second they weren't together. But she never said anything further about the dog, and always worried about his possible reaction; especially that she'd seriously considered adopting Bruno. Would he gaze at her over his glasses with his lips pursed with a gentle reminder she couldn't save all of the abused animals?

But maybe Sara assumed too much. Maybe Grissom wouldn't be opposed to having a pet. After all, she never thought they would share so much as a hug, and now they lived together in a new home. He might still surprise her again. As much as she disliked not visiting her canine buddy, this might be the perfect opportunity to talk to Grissom about what she wanted.

"…I'd kind of liked to go home." She discreetly pushed the bag of toys to the bag of her locker. "I'd really prefer _your_ waffles to some greasy restaurant," she added in a sweet, voice, turning her eyes up at him.

He grinned. "Gil's wonderful waffles it is.

* * *

She made sure to compliment Grissom on another fine batch of waffles, and after breakfast Sara gave him a thorough kiss that left him dazed for a few a moments. She laughed at him, and then offered to clean up in the kitchen while he relaxed in the living room.

When she finished, she joined Grissom on the sofa, leaning against him as he worked on his crossword puzzle. She sweetly asked if she could turn on the television to which he nodded. Flipping through the digital cable menu, she quickly found the perfect transition.

He quirked up a questioning eyebrow. "A dog show, honey?"

"Well, it's either this or _The Young and the Restless_."

"Dog show it is." His gaze returned to the checkered boxes.

A few minutes went by as the owners jogged along side their prized pets in front of the judges. "Did you ever have a dog growing up?" Sara asked casually.

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, but the neighbors across the street had a St. Bernard."

She grinned at the image of Gil Grissom as a small child interacting with a large dog. "Did you go over and play with him a lot?"

He huffed. "Not after dog got loose and destroyed the ant hill in our backyard."

Sara inwardly cringed; it was definitely _not_ the answer she hoped for. He hadn't said outright he didn't like dogs so there was still a chance…a very small chance.

Luckily the television helped her out. "I can understand that; big dogs like that can be hard to control. Something…slightly smaller would be easier to handle."

Both watched as a judge inspected a Pomeranian. He casted a doubtful look towards her, "Like breeds that many people carry around in large purses?"

"I didn't mean the toy category." She rolled her eyes. "Something in between. Like a lab or a golden retriever…or a boxer."

But he merely grunted as he'd already gone back to his crossword puzzle.

She wanted to smack him; he was making this difficult for her. Rubbing his arm, she decided on a different approach. "Did you ever want a dog?"

His answer was short, simple, and right to the point. "No."

But that didn't mean it shocked her any less.

"Really?"

"Dogs require a great deal of responsibility and my job has never been conducive to that. I mean, how often are we at a crime scene or at the lab or court? There are some days where we aren't home for twenty-four hours. And then what? The dog gets bored and develops destructive behavior."

Sara's heart sank as he continued, "And if the dog cannot be trusted to be in the house, then it gets crated all day long only to be let out long enough to do its business because I'm too tired to go for a walk. Sometimes, despite what might be a good breed, the dog can be unpredictable from excessive barking to constantly urinating indoors to an unstable temperament."

Any hope Sara had left completely evaporated. Dejected, she sank back against the couch cushions, and changed the channel to what appeared to be a Discovery Channel special on komodo dragons.

Looking up, Grissom's pen stopped mid-word. "Now lizards make excellent pets.

* * *

On the next Wednesday morning, the sun shone brightly as Sara sat in her car in the parking of the humane society. Ever since her conversation with Grissom, she'd been dreading what would have to be her last visit with Bruno. It pained her to have to stop seeing the boxer, but Grissom had expressed a great disinterest in owning a pet that didn't have more than four legs. But that didn't mean she couldn't say goodbye to Bruno.

Besides, the boxer had gotten healthier, and passed the animal behavioral tests with flying colors. He would eventually go to a good home; with a grassy backyard, plenty to eat, and rubber bones to chew.

Just not her home.

With a heavy sigh, Sara finally opened the car door. After signing in at the front desk, she made her way to back to the kennels. The loud barking from the other dogs echoed off of the walls. As she walked down the aisle, she found Dr. Orme inside Bruno's kennel.

Bruno's tail wagged back and forth madly. Smiling, she bent down to scratch him behind the ears and he lapped at her fingers. It was almost hard to believe he'd been at death's door six weeks ago. The areas where the mange had ravaged his skin were now almost completely filled in with fur and he'd gained a significant amount of weight back.

Sara then stood up, and apologized to the vet for not addressing him first.

"Not to worry, Ms. Sidle," he chuckled. "It happens to me all the time when people pick up their pets."

She managed to keep her expression neutral at his comment. Just as quickly though, her eyes widened in concern. "Is everything okay with Bruno? Is he sick?"

"No, no, not at all. In fact I wanted to tell you personally that I decided to clear Bruno for adoption."

Now she had to force a smile. "That's…that's great."

"Yeah," the vet nodded, gazing down at the dog sitting patiently beside him. "Bruno still has a little more weight to gain, but he should do fine in a home now." Dr. Orme turned his attention to Sara. "I know you've been visiting Bruno the last few weeks, but I didn't know if you wanted to take him. I thought I'd first offer you the opportunity to adopt him."

_There are some days where we aren't home for twenty-four hours. And then what? The dog gets bored and develops destructive behavior._

_Excessive barking…_

_Urinating in the house…_

_Unstable temperament…_

Obviously there was one answer to this offer.

"I would love to adopt Bruno."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_The Pack-Chapter 4_

_Author's Note- Well, here is the last chapter. I'm really happy everyone enjoyed this fic; I had a lot of fun writing it. Hopefully I can come up with more Bruno stories in the future. Until then, thank you all for your amazing support and wonderful reviews._

_Pumpkin Cheesecake Spoonbenders for my dear beta, EllipsesBandit, who continues to help me be a better writer._

* * *

"Okay. This is not as bad as it seems; it could be worse. I mean, I could've gotten an alligator! Now those have unstable personalities, and let's not even get into destructive behavior. An alligator could easily rip an arm off. So in the grand scheme of things having a dog is not that bad...right?"

Sara turned to Bruno, who sat in the front passenger seat next to her, as if waiting for an answer. The boxer pawed her arm and whined before snuffling against the partially open window, impatient to go on his car ride. Her heart melted as she reluctantly turned the key and pulled out of the parking lot.

During the process of filling out the necessary paperwork, she'd kept telling herself to stop. Grissom had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to own a dog. But Bruno pressed against her legs the whole time, and the pen kept moving across the pages.

She hoped this morning's meeting would run long, giving her time to decide on how to tell Grissom. She figured it would be best to ease him into the idea, rather than shock him by setting up a dog house in the backyard with Bruno's name painted over the entrance.

Sara breathed a sigh a relief as when she didn't see Grissom's car as she pulled into her parking space at the condo. Grabbing Bruno's leash, she lead the boxer to the front door. Once inside, Bruno started a thorough sniffing of his new surroundings, not wandering too far from Sara.

"Welcome, Bruno," she told the canine affectionately. "Hopefully I can make this your new home. All we have to do is convince my dog-owning opposed entomologist. I just need to figure out how."

She only had a few seconds when she heard the door creaking open, signaling Grissom's arrival. Panicked, she threw open the curtain to the closest, next to the television. Tugging on the leash, she pulled Bruno, who cocked his questioningly at her, under the coats.

"Just stay here, and don't do anything," she whispered before gently pulling the curtain across. Though a bit of the dog's white paws could still be seen underneath.

Turning quickly, she greeted Grissom with an overly bright smile. "Hi, sweetie! How was your day?"

After setting his brief case on the floor, he began to take off his jacket. "Catherine and I were examining the car belonging to a possible missing person and were just about finished up when she opened the trunk and found a decomposed body in the trunk." He started to make his way to the closet, but Sara intercepted him.

"I'll take your jacket for you," she offered politely. "It sounds like you've had a long day." She took his coat and folded it over the top of the recliner, angling herself in front of the closet.

Staring at her for moment, Grissom shrugged and then plopped down on the leather sofa. "The body had been in there at least a week, and when we cleared out the trunk we found a knife with a six inch blade."

"That must've been fun to process."

"By the time we finished the coveralls ended up going to biohazards and Catherine had to send Nick out to buy a case of lemons. Speaking of which…" He leaned back into the cushions. "I was out of soap and I went to your locker to borrow some, and I found a rubber dog bone. Have you found a new method of distracting Greg?"

She chuckled. "No. That wasn't his." Taking a deep breath, she made a few steps to the sofa. She couldn't draw this out any longer. "Do you remember that case we had over a month ago with the college kids and the meth house?"

He nodded. "Yes. The place where you found the starved dog." Grissom pursed his lips. "Did you hear if the dog survived?"

"I sort of saw for myself actually." She paused. "You see…I'd gone down to the human society after work and talked to the vet, and he said the dog was in really bad shape. But by the next week, Bruno had already begun to respond to the treatment."

"Bruno?"

"The dog's name," she clarified. "And by the third week, his skin infection had started to clear up."

Shaking his head in confusion, Grissom cocked his head. "How did you find this out?"

She clenched her hands together. "I…sort of went back to the humane society again…" Then in a small voice added, "…and every week since then."

Grissom's expression remained deeply quizzical with brow wrinkled and blues eyes studying her closely. "So the bone…"

"Was for the dog," she finished. Then Sara swallowed tightly, and then the rest of her words rushed together. "I went back today to say goodbye to the dog, and then the vet told me Bruno was healthy again and ready for adoption. And because I had been there a lot he offered me the first chance to adopt…" her frazzled speech trailed off as she noticed Grissom peering behind her.

He pointed to closet. "Is the dog in the closet?" Sara followed his gaze, and found the curtain moving along with the white tip of a tail dancing underneath it.

Turning back to him, she bit her lower lip. "Ummmmm…."

She had to give him credit; it only took Grissom mere seconds to put together the puzzle pieces. The confusion on his face quickly morphed to realization and his eyes widened significantly.

"Sara," he said, with a note of irritation in his voice. "You didn't…"

Sighing heavily, Sara took two steps back from the recliner and pulled back the closet curtain to reveal Bruno sniffing and apparently slobbering on a pair of Grissom's loafers. She grabbed the dog's collar and pulled him in front of the coffee table where Grissom could see him completely.

Man and beast engaged in a staring contest, and after a few moments, Bruno leaned heavily against Sara's legs.

She reached down and scratched the boxer's ears. "Gil, this is Bruno."

Scrubbing a hand down his face wearily, Grissom shook his head. "Honey, I know you want to keep him, but-"

"I know I should have talked with you about this," she gently cut him off. "But when I saw him in the kennel for the first time…" She shrugged. "He recognized me and I couldn't leave him."

"I respect that. And I know the dog was in a dire situation before and deserves a good home. But we can't keep the dog."

Despite her arms crossed over her chest, Sara kept her tone neutral. "Why not?"

"First off, we don't have a proper size backyard."

"There's still enough room back there that he can be let out for a bathroom break."

"Where would he stay during the night?"

"We'll just keep him inside."

"There's another thing. He'll be cooped up in here all night and possibly all day. How many times have we worked a shift and then spent the day in court?"

"I thought about that. Having Bruno would be a good reason to spend less time at a lab. And we can hire a sitter when we have to spend long periods at crime scenes." Sara could see his resolve fading, but his jaw still remained slightly hardened. Resting his face in his hand, he kept his gaze on Bruno.

She'd come up with a few other reasons to keep the dog on the drive home, but she wanted to avoid using them until absolutely necessary. But it looked like she could tip the scales in her favor. She heaved a breath; hopefully this would be enough.

"You know, having Bruno wouldn't be such a bad thing especially on nights off. I'd like to some company when I'm here…" She knew she had him as he pursed his lips in thought; he appeared to be contemplating her reasoning. "Alone," she added as an after thought.

A few weeks earlier, she'd told Grissom about the night with the rustling in the bushes. Even though a quick investigation of the area turned up nothing probative, he still insisted on scheduling more nights off together and even suggested she call him the next time she heard the noise. Sara had balked, understanding his worry, but not willing to give up all of her independence.

But he didn't need to know that. She just had to play into the male ego.

And apparently it started working. Grissom rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, yet he still hadn't said anything. Sara had to go for broke.

"I like having the tarantulas here, but Bruno would provide a little more protection…if on the off chance…something ever happened."

A few moments of silence passed before he finally said, "That actually is…a valid point."

She continued to stare at him, her eyebrows raised in hopeful question. Finally, he threw his arms up and let them fall by his side in defeat. "Ah, all right. We can keep the dog."

Coming around the coffee table, she bent down and hugged him around his neck. She smacked a couple of loud kisses on his cheek. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he grudgingly said as he heaved himself off the couch. The boxer still sat on the other side, watching the pair with his tail moving warily back and forth. "Welcome home, Bruno," Grissom told the dog before he headed downstairs to his and Sara's bedroom.

She went back and scratched Bruno's neck. "Did you hear that, buddy? This is your home!" Crouching down, she spoke to directly to the dog. "And what's even better is I use my new Victoria's Secret piece as a thank you and not a bribe."

* * *

Life with a dog, especially a rescue, turned out to be a big adjustment. Bruno never liked to be alone so he always followed Sara and Grissom around the house. More than a few times, the dog had managed to trip the pair down the stairs as he tried to squeeze between their legs. And the first few nights they left for work, an anxious Bruno chewed up a pair of her sandals and started on the legs of the recliner.

And Sara wouldn't trade him for anything; when they arrived home from work, Bruno greeted with booming barks and slobbering kisses. They enjoyed hour long tug-of-war battles and he rested his head on her feet as she worked on the desk computer.

Unfortunately it didn't appear Bruno and Grissom hadn't bonded in the same way. The boxer never snarled or tried to nip at Grissom, and the entomologist wasn't outwardly mean to the dog, but their relationship seemed formal more than anything else. If both of them were home, Bruno preferred to stay with Sara. When Grissom would try to engage Bruno in a game a fetch, the boxer would simply stare at him before lying down.

About three weeks later, Grissom surprised Sara with a night off together. After dinner, the pair retired to the couch to watch a movie. Bruno lay by their feet as Grissom had adamantly stated he did not want the dog on any of the furniture, especially their bed.

It was after ten pm when the movie ended, and just as Grissom changed the channel to the local news, a distinctive snapping noise came from behind the back door. Bruno lifted his head, and let out a wuffled sort of bark. At first Sara thought it was a fluke, but she once again heard the bushes rustle.

She turned to Grissom. "You hear that?"

"Yeah," he slowly nodded, obviously concentrating on the noise.

They both looked over the railing, and she noticed muted light behind the dark green curtains; the motion light had been triggered this time. Her pulse quickened slightly, and even though she would never, _ever_ admit to him, she felt more relieved than the time before because Grissom was next to her.

He then got up and calmly walked down the stairs to the back door with Bruno hot on his heels. Sara grabbed her cell phone off of the coffee table before following. She stood behind Grissom as he carefully pulled the curtain back to reveal nothing on the patio. Bruno maintained a rigid position next to Grissom like Sara had never seen before. The dog wuffled again, this time sounding closer to a growl, and his eyes stayed fixed on the bushes perpendicular to the condo, next to the bird feeder.

After looking outside for a few moments, the bushes moved again accompanied by significant crunching sounds. This time Bruno barked, scratching at the door.

"Bruno, no," Grissom commanded firmed, trying to move the dog away from the door. "I'm going to see what's out there."

Before Sara could even protest, he'd already crept outside. She cursed under her breath; of course he would go out there unarmed. He'd faced serial killers without a weapon so the common thief should be a cakewalk. Grissom tried to get outside without the dog getting out, but Bruno managed to squeeze through the small opening. Still following, Sara went to the patio, eyes looking everywhere in the small yard.

As soon as Grissom stepped into the grass, something about the size of a large cat shot out of the bushes toward his feet. Before Grissom could react and move out of the way, Bruno ran forward and barked madly at the creature. Whatever came out of the bushes, immediately changed course and went away from Grissom, but Bruno ran after it. Bruno chased the thing to other side of the yard where it scrambled up the fence to the other side, but not after giving Sara a glimpse of a bushy grey and black striped tail.

The boxer, obviously frustrated over the loss with his nemesis, barked and barked at the fence. Grissom finally called the dog back over, but Bruno gave the fence one last lingering look to make sure the creature was not invading his territory again.

Sara walked next to him and found Grissom breathing deeply. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. That raccoon just surprised the hell out of me."

"I have never seen a raccoon that big before." She shook her head in disbelief. "But at least we know what's been back here."

"I'm sure it's been getting into the feeder. I'll see if we can find some way to keep it out of there." Then he looked down to Bruno, who had been sitting by them, panting happily.

"Thank you, boy," Grissom said genuinely and then patted the canine's head to which the dog answered with a slurp to the fingers.

The trio headed back inside, and this time when they sat on the couch, Bruno curled up next to Grissom's feet.

* * *

The next day over the breakfast, Sara read through the main section of the newspaper while Grissom concentrated on the crossword puzzle. Finishing up, she went to grab the sports section and caught Grissom picking up a piece of bacon. She didn't think much of it until she noticed he brought the food to his lap and not his mouth. He continued to mark the paper without a flinch, as if his action had been the most normal thing in the world.

As she brought the newspaper back, her arm "accidentally" brushed against her spoon and it fell to the floor. Leaning down, she picked up the utensil while peeking under the table. Bruno lay by the legs of Grissom's chair and now she could see why; Grissom's hand once again brought a strip of bacon to the dog.

Later in the afternoon, she sat at the long desk along the wall by the dining room, playing an online version of Super Mario Brothers World. She had just acquired Yoshi when a loud _thunk_ came from down the hall. A tennis ball bounced near the stairs, hit the book shelf, and rebounded against the kitchen island. The jingle of metal tags along with quick clicking of dog claws announced the arrival of Bruno. The boxer located the tennis ball swiftly picked it up in his mouth, and trotted back down the hall way to Grissom's office.

As Grissom took a shower that night, she sat up in bed, reading another chapter in the Lynne Truss novel. Sara gazed up to find Bruno's hopeful brown eyes staring at her the foot of the bed. The dog inched closer, resting his chin on the mattress. Bruno once again tried his best for an invitation on the big, soft bed.

Setting her book in her lap, she looked apologetically to the canine. "Oh, buddy, I'd let you up here, but Gil doesn't want another male in the bed."

Just then Grissom walked in, wearing a pair of Chicago Blackhawks lounge pants without a t-shirt. The clean, spicy scent of his soap filled the room, making Sara's breath deepen. This would normally be the point where he would scold the dog, and tell Bruno to lay down. But Grissom shocked her into a stunned silence with his next words.

"C'mon, Bruno." He patted the bed. "Come up here."

The dog carefully hopped on the bed and lay down slowly. His chin rested on top of his paws and his tail thumped against the comforter.

Sara stared at Grissom with an open mouth as he pulled out his glasses and the latest _Sports Illustrated_ from his nightstand. Sitting next to her, he started to open the magazine, but he'd apparently caught sight of her bewildered expression. He peered at her over his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"I just…I thought Bruno wasn't allowed on the bed."

"I was reading some information on adopting abused and neglected animals and many experts agree that it is important for owners to bond with the dog."

"And this…" She waved to the boxer between them. "Is part of the bonding?"

"Yes, it is." He nodded emphatically. "Along with sufficiently long walks, proper training, and playing with the dog. The dog needs to know it is a member of the pack."

"The pack?"

"Yes. Humans have been part of the dogs' social structure for thousands of years. And dogs that do not have packs can act out with feral behavior. Therefore, proper bonding with our pack will ensure a better quality of life for Bruno."

Her lips lifted into a wide grin, and her chest pooled with delicious warmth. She didn't know which was sweeter: that Grissom had fully accepted Bruno in their home or that he had apparently thought of the two of them as a family for a while now.

He opened his magazine again, but Sara turned his head, for a long, deep kiss. When she pulled back, he blinked several times at her and then cleared his throat. Turning on her side, she nuzzled against his bearded check laying her head on his shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure Bruno already has a better quality of life," she smirked. The dog had stretched out at the foot of the bed, already blissfully asleep.

And the pack of two of now had a third member.

The End

_This story is dedicated to the selfless humane society workers of the world and to all of the wonderful people who adopt pets from animal shelters. Thank you all for giving these animals another chance._


End file.
